


He's Not Who You Want Him to Be

by princedeadend



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Coping, Eventual Smut, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 06:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princedeadend/pseuds/princedeadend
Summary: He's not Shiro. An inkling of doubt wrapped up in guilt had manifested in the back of your mind and only grown as you replayed his first mission back on a loop. His orders. His tone. It was all wrong.He’sall wrong. You'd tried to attribute it to vanishing into thin air mid-battle; being God knows where being put through God knows what before escaping and nearly dying of a winning combination of dehydration and oxygen deprivation. You'd tried.Maybe it's time to come to terms with the fact that you might never get Shiro back. Your Shiro.





	He's Not Who You Want Him to Be

When you were small, the endless expanse of the night sky felt oppressive. Its vastness was intimidating but awe inducing. Lying on your back in tall grass fields on warm summer nights with your arms outstretched, stars twinkling between splayed fingers, you wondered what was just beyond your reach. Away from the small town where you never quite felt you fit in. As young as you were, you always knew it. But you also knew that this place wouldn’t contain you. It couldn’t. And so you imagined yourself on a wonder-filled journey where you fought alien invaders and you never felt like you didn’t belong because wouldn’t all space creatures be a little different too?

When you start school at the Garrison, sponsored by a scholarship earned through exceptional test scores that spoke to your intelligence despite mediocre grades, escaping the atmosphere where you’ve always felt trapped is within your grasp. You’ve long since outgrown playing pretend but your younger self smiles brightly behind the controls of a ship you could have only dreamed about piloting. Although you’ve never been one for the spotlight, preferring instead to keep to yourself, you can’t help but take a little pride in the fact that you’re at the top of your class even though you honestly don’t care much about where you rank. 

You just want to fly. 

Growing up feeling like you wouldn’t amount to much past living in a dingy shack of a house with a truck that barely gets you to and from some point of mindless employment, there’s really not much else you could ask for. You’re content to continue on the solitary path you’ve always walked. 

Until you meet _him_. 

He’s certainly not a stranger to you. You’ve been hearing his name since the day you got there. “Takashi Shirogane.” Praised by the faculty and whispered about in the hallways he walked proudly in his crisp uniform by students far too shy or starstruck to approach. Yeah, you’d heard of him. 

It’s not until you destroy his records that he hears of _you_.

Now as you sit in the cockpit of the Red Lion with your beloved mentor, your best friend, gone without any explanation and no way to find him, you’re a child again and the pitch black expanse of the galaxy is suffocating.  


______________

A crushing sense of hopelessness builds in your chest as your search the skies for what feels like the thousandth time. You’ve picked away the top layer of skin from your bottom lip piece by piece with your teeth, tasting blood on your tongue, as you circle aimlessly around the castle looking for any kind of blip on your radar. Any sign that he’s out here. 

There’s nothing.

“Keith, come back inside.”

You hear Allura’s voice but it’s like you’re in a tunnel. 

______________

You don’t want to even consider the thought of replacing Shiro. As far as you’re concerned, there is no replacement. No Shiro, no Voltron. That’s that. Selfish as it is, you don’t want to go anywhere near Black because she’s responded to you before. If she were to do it again then…

You don’t need Shiro.

But you do. You all do. You’re no leader regardless of what Shiro wanted. You’ve been itching to go to Black for weeks now, to sit with her, open your mind to her and feel her energy, feel Shiro’s energy running through you but you haven’t. She might have answers you need but you’re too much of a coward to go looking for them. You can’t even get past her hangar doors. The closest you’d gotten was taking a deep breath with your hand inches from the access panel, already lit up, aware of your presence. Your heart had slammed against your ribcage, pressure building in your chest and up into your throat. You couldn’t breathe. Bonding with her would be accepting your loss. And you’re not ready to accept that loss. Not again.

You can’t do this again.

Even crumpled on the floor of the castle, Black is a mammoth and you’re acutely aware of the draw you already feel to her as everyone takes their turn in her cockpit. You know it’s useless and the amount of time Lance spends with her only adds to how low you feel. You don’t want this. You never have. You’re not ready to let go of Shiro, to stop searching for him, but in this moment, you can’t say you wouldn’t be the slightest bit relieved if anyone but you was able to connect with Black.

As soon as you sit down in Shiro’s seat, you can feel Black humming around you and your stomach drops. No amount of swallowing can get the knot in your throat to budge and God, does it ache. This feels like a betrayal regardless of whether Shiro wanted it for you or not.

“Please, no…”  


______________

When Black begins singing Shiro’s name into the void of space, whipping around towards some unseen goal, you’re not sure what to expect. It’s been weeks, maybe months, that you’ve been searching with nothing to show for it; no hint that he’s even alive but now…

“You found him.” You’re in disbelief. 

“Keith! What is it?”

You lick your lips, not quite sure what to tell your team yet. You’re not in the mood for the pity if you’re both wrong. But if you’re not… 

“It’s...it’s Shiro. Black found him. He’s here.” 

Your gut knots in cautious hope as Allura prepares to open a wormhole now that she has a target to lock onto. You don’t want to be disappointed if you find nothing yet again but this time, you’re not calling for him on your own. You feel Black’s excitement, her relief, thrumming in your veins, lighting up every nerve in your body as soon as you exit the wormhole. And then you see it. A lone Galra craft. It’s small and drifting along slowly, likely out of fuel.

You found him.  


______________

He’s haggard. But what can you expect? He’s been gone far longer than you’d care to think about and it’s unclear what exactly he’s endured. It doesn’t keep it from being startling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Shiro with barely more than a five o’clock shadow grown over weekends spent together in his room, stealing kisses that scratch your chin during study sessions. It’s the long hair that really gets you. There’s no way his hair should have grown that long. It’s only been a few weeks, right? Suddenly, you’re not sure how long it’s been. Not _that_ long. Couldn’t be.

“Could it have teleported you? Maybe it was trying to save you.” How much does teleportation fuck with time? Does teleportation fuck with time at all? 

“By teleporting me into the hands of the Galra?”

After all the time you’ve spent training and bonding with your lions, Shiro in particular, you don’t want to consider the possibility that maybe the bonds don’t mean as much as you’d like to think. Though you’ve never questioned Red’s seemingly unyielding loyalty...

You shrug, suddenly feeling less certain in your reassurance. “Maybe Zarkon forced it to. He was trying to control the Black Lion up until the very last moment, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Shiro doesn’t seem all that convinced by that either and you chew the inside of your cheek with your molars. You’re zero for two with theories that might make him feel the least bit better.

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, the rest of the team would be thrilled to see you up and around again. They need you, you know.” The ‘I need you’ goes unspoken but it’s there all the same. 

“Yeah, I’ll try. Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“How many times are you gonna have to save me before this is over?” He says it with humor but his eyes are steel, expression solemn. It’s the first time since you’ve gotten him back that he sounds like himself but it’s still not quite right.

“As many times as it takes.” And you mean it. You leave feeling marginally better. _He needs time. He just needs time. He’ll come back_. You choose not to contemplate too long on the _when_. 

______________

He's not Shiro. An inkling of doubt wrapped up in guilt had manifested in the back of your mind and only grown as you replayed his first mission back on a loop. His orders. His tone. It was all wrong. _He’s_ all wrong. You'd tried to attribute it to vanishing into thin air mid-battle; being God knows where being put through God knows what before escaping and nearly dying of a winning combination of dehydration and oxygen deprivation. You'd tried.

Being called away from the bridge because Black refused to respond to Shiro had been the absolute last thing you’d needed to have added to your overrunning plate of uncertainty. 

His words circled in your mind again even as you shoved your head beneath your pillow, hands pressed flat to your ears, in a futile attempt to silence your mind; stop the buzzing.

_“Keith, the cargo ship is getting away! You’re going to have to lower your shield, shoot the cargo ship, and deal with the consequences.”_

_“We can beat the ship first and then get the cargo ship.”_

_“There’s not enough time. You need to make a decision.”_

_“I’m sorry I had to step in back there.”_

_“I thought I had it under control.”_

_“You need to learn to pick your battles. Sometimes, you have to make hard choices.”_

_“I’m no good at this.”_

_“Yes, you are. You’re gonna get there. The Black Lion has chosen you. I’m proud of you, Keith.”_

“I’m proud of you, Keith.”

“I’m proud of you”

_Are you?_

______________

It’s during an afternoon you’re supposed to be spending with the team, bonding, in your new formation sans Shiro that you call everyone together. It’s probably the first leaderly thing you’ve done and you’re nervous about what you’re planning to say. With Shiro on the uppermost training deck fighting bots to stay sharp since he can't pilot, it hadn’t been terribly difficult to corral everyone without arousing suspicion but now you’re here, standing before your clearly confused team about to make your case that Shiro...isn’t Shiro.

“Keith, what’s happened? What’s this all about?” Allura doesn’t seem too pleased that you’re not out in your lions but at least she seems willing to hear you out.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Lance, a little less so.

“If we’re having a meeting, someone should go grab Shiro,” Hunk says starting for the door.

“No! No, it’s uh…” You dig your nails into the meat of your palm and brace yourself to feel ridiculous but you have to know if anyone else has noticed or if you’re losing your mind. Maybe you’re just too close. Too critical. “This is about Shiro.” You meet everyone’s eyes briefly. “I don’t think he’s our Shiro.”

Lance’s eyes narrow but you’d suspected a quick reaction from him more than anyone else. “What does that even _mean_? What are you talking about?”

You have to actively force yourself not to visibly bristle. If you get riled up, no one will take you seriously. Patience. “It’s just a feeling, okay? Like...he’s...he’s off.”

“Well he _was_ teleported into Galra hands. Again. Of course he might be a little weird.”

“Yeah, and I thought about that but he was fine when we rescued him the first time. Well, not _fine_ but he was still himself. He was Shiro. And that was after spending an entire year in captivity and fighting in an alien arena for entertainment. He went through all of that and still came back as himself.”

Lance chews his lip, contemplating. You see the moment his eyes lose just a little of their light. “Maybe...maybe a second time was too much…”

You don’t want to consider what it must have been like for him. Two tours in hell. He should have been with you. He should have been with his team. Instead he was taken.

Pidge has been sitting quietly, cross-legged and rubbing at her temples. She takes her glasses off, wiping them on her shirt as she sighs. “I’ve noticed it too. That mission...Shiro wouldn’t have given us orders like that. ‘Lower your shield and deal with the consequences?’ He just...he wouldn’t put us in danger like that. He’s not reckless.”

“You mean he’s not Keith,” Lance comments.

You cut him a glare but can you really deny it?

Hunk scratches his chin. “Black wouldn’t respond to him either.”

“That concerns me as well.” Allura’s brow furrows. “There shouldn’t be any reason for that kind of reaction. It’s unheard of.”

“Maybe Black doesn’t think he’s ready to come back?” Lance offers. “But she’s the one who found him, right?”

You nod thinking back. “Yeah, the way she locked onto him was just…” You clench your fist. “She was so sure. I could feel her.”

“So why lock him out?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hate to say this guys but...what if the Galra did something to him?” Hunk says uneasily. 

You feel your chest tighten. _No_. “Like what?” You force your voice to hold steady.

“Well, we’ve already seen mind control first hand. I didn’t ever think that was possible before but now…,” he trails off. 

You don’t even want to consider that possibility but you know you have to. What if he’s in there? He’s in there and he’s not in control of his own body. Of his mind. You swallow hard and it feels like ice is seeping into your veins.

Coran, who’s stayed quiet until this point, clears his throat. “We don’t know what’s really happening if anything. We’re just going to have to keep an eye on him.”

“Do we lock him in his room at night?” It sounds like it hurts Lance to even suggest it.

“No.” The objection comes out harsher than intended and you throw what you hope is an apologetic look towards Lance with a sigh. “I won’t let him be a prisoner here.”

______________

Much to Shiro’s dismay, you’ve taken to scrutinizing everything about him. The way he holds his mug when he’s standing at the counter drinking the piss-poor Altean equivalent of coffee. He even scowls the same way he used to after the first sip. 

You take notice of the way the corners of his lips turn down and he twists his mouth to the side when he’s perplexed like he always has.

He continues to attentively listen to Pidge as she talks animatedly about the alien technology they’ve run across and the possible ways it can be altered to suit their needs. When Lance makes an overtly suggestive comment, he receives the usual look of exasperation.

Hell, he’s even resumed his motivational speeches and the orders he gives during missions are more...trusting. He doesn’t second-guess you. He doesn’t snap commands. He doesn’t sound as frustrated over the comms. Camaraderie among the teams slowly returns.

You study Shiro like he’s a test subject and it’s not until you notice him fidgeting under your intense gaze that you realize that it’s quite possible that you’re making him uncomfortable. He’s spent more than enough time being studied after all and that acknowledgment makes you feel guilty. 

But you’re not the only one keeping an eye his behavior, his mannerisms. More than once you’ve noticed Hunk take just as must interest in what Shiro’s up to as he would when working on an engine or futilely attempting to educate Coran on Earthly cuisine.

If he’s any different, you have yet to find the tell and you begin to consider that maybe you’re being a thoughtless asshole by insisting that regardless of the fact that Shiro’s been through multiple traumatic experiences, he should remain the same person he’s always been. And of course he’s changed. He wakes up screaming during the night. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror. He keeps making jokes about dying that frankly, you don’t appreciate. These are the changes you can live with. The ones you expect.

It’s the nagging feeling that something’s not right though that gets to you. You can’t place it. You’re just...apprehensive. 

You don’t realize _how_ apprehensive until Shiro isn’t on the bridge, the training deck, or in his room. You prefer to think it’s the fact that he keeps disappearing on you as opposed to a lack of trust that has you running for the Black Lion’s hangar.

You find him in the cockpit, hands at the controls and eyes closed in concentration and you wonder how many times he’s come here now. How many times he’s tried unsuccessfully to rekindle the bond they once had. He’s frustrated. It’s when he gives up with a resigned sigh that you see the concern there, etched into the corners of his eyes. No one had said it but the team had already come to accept that Black might never accept Shiro again.

You’re the first one to break the silence. “We should have gone back to the way we were. When Black found you, when we found you, it was like she was coming alive. I’d never felt energy from her like that.”

Shiro only nods, sad eyes on her control panel. “Maybe you’re a better fit. Maybe this is what the team needs right now.” It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you and you can’t blame him. At every turn, he seems to have his sense of purpose ripped out from under him. “I am proud of you, Keith.”

“I know.”

______________

Like countless nights before this one, you find yourself back in the cockpit flying aimless loops around the castle. It had become habit eventually when you couldn’t sleep. Caught between dreams of simpler times spent wrapped securely around a warm body on cold desert nights and nightmares of what Shiro went through. Is going through? You have no idea what to make of it all. The idea that Shiro...isn’t Shiro is crazy. Isn’t it? And if this isn’t Shiro, where is he? Is he safe? Is he in pain? Is he back in the arena? Your blood boils at the thought the the Galra taking anything more than what they already have from a man who wanted only to be among the stars and asked for nothing in return.

You clear your throat against the knot you’ve grown familiar carrying and return to the castle with a mind gone numb. You’re not anticipating company when you return. Your teammates are usually sleeping, just as you should be, unless Pidge is up tinkering with some new device she’s stumbled upon. Coran and Allura gave up trying to keep you inside long ago attributing your night flights to “coping.” And yet, as you yank your helmet off and shake your hair out, you freeze. Shiro’s waiting at the hangar door, eyes cast to the floor, arms crossed. He looks contemplative. Hard. You assume he must be there to reprimand you. Lecture you about how you need rest and you resume your pace. Better to go ahead and get it over with. When he looks up, there’s a distinct moment where his entire expression softens into something you’re more familiar with. Somehow, it’s even more intimidating and you falter in your steps, hoping your hesitation isn’t as plain on your face as you feel it must be. Maybe he’s not here to give you a hard time after all.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Neither of you speak as you leave the hangar, tension thick in the air. It’s unnerving considering he is...was...is the only person able to set you at ease and it makes you want to crawl out of your skin. You vaguely wonder if you can still out run him.

“You barely sleep. You keep going out there.” He sounds the way you feel. Exhausted. Unsure. “What are you looking for?” His voice is quiet, low, soothing the way it usually is when he can sense your frayed edges and you have to keep your fingers from reaching for his. It’s a habit. A reassurance. One you don’t know how to continue or if you can.

You feign casualty with a shrug. “Not looking for anything. I just needed to get out. Get some space, y’know?”

His pace slows to a stop in the corridor next to a large window. He gestures vaguely at the dark emptiness.

“Well, there’s certainly no shortage out here.”

You snort. “A little more space than I anticipated getting.”

“I’ll say.”

With his back to you, you allow yourself to study him. It’s the first time in a long time you’ve seen his hair this short. You can’t remember the last time you’d seen him with anything other than his undercut and you lament not pushing harder when he insisted he could cut it himself. A perfectionist in every way but clumsy with clippers. He clears his throat and you catch him watching you watch him in the reflection of the window.

“Are you okay?”

No. 

“Yeah.”

It’s clear he doesn’t believe you by the way his mouth quirks just slightly to the side, eyes turning back out into the nothingness that surrounds you. “Are we okay?”

It’s the first time he’s referred to you as the collective ‘we’ since he’s been back and you feel a degree of panic. You hadn’t anticipated the conversation to turn down this path. Even Shiro seems uncertain about posing the question with pink slowly crawling up his neck. It’s not that you hadn’t thought about it. You’ve caught yourself staring. On the bridge, on the training deck, at dinner. You know you must look like a man starved to anyone who happens to have eyes and in a way you are. You went from jokes about how Garrison ships are basically tin cans compared to what you fly now, reassuring touches and gentle talks, kisses snuck in empty hallways or alone on the bridge, a tight grip on your hips and moans buried in pillows to a never fading feeling of unease around a stranger. A shell. And you hate that you can feel that way about the person that used to be your universe.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” You can’t look at him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He steps closer to you and his eyes sweep across your face, searching. He looks...well, he looks like _him_. The furrowed brow when he know you’re holding something back. He wants to ask, wants to dig, wants to help. You can see it in the set of his jaw, the resignation. He reaches out tentatively, testing whether you’ll flee like you used to. Back when you first got to the Garrison and were used to being alone. Back when you were more comfortable taking a punch than being held. But you don’t pull away. You’ve missed his touch. God, you’ve missed him. You manage not to flinch when his large palm cradles your face, thumb sweeping along your cheekbone. Your eyes close and like this, in the dim light, he’s Shiro. Your Shiro. You lean into his touch. His hand is warm and only makes you painfully aware of how touch starved you are. You’re barely aware of your fingers clenching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, always knowing what you need even when you don’t seem to know yourself. And right now you need to be anchored in familiarity. You feel the prick behind your eyes and god, you don’t want to do this here. 

“Keith?”

You can’t look at him. Not like this. So you just shake your head and shudder out a deep breath as he runs his fingers through your hair, raising goosebumps along your arms. You stand together in silence for a few moments before he speaks again.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your forehead.

“For what?”

“Getting you into this mess.” You have flashbacks to sitting side-by-side next to a fire and wince.

“You didn’t drag me anywhere. I came because I wanted to.” Your lips brush the front of his shirt as you speak, voice muffled in his chest. He smells the same. “I didn’t want you to leave me again.” It’s the first time you’ve admitted it aloud and you feel more than hear the catch in Shiro’s breath. You know it’s something he’s felt guilty for. Hell, you know he felt guilty leaving you the day he received his orders for the Kerberos mission. His arms tighten around you almost imperceptibly. Almost.

“And I’m sorry for that.” 

“I know.” You pull away finally but you’re still not quite able to hold his gaze, choosing instead to speak to your hands as you pick at the skin around your nails. “But I mean it, Shiro. I meant it then and I mean it now. My life really would have been a lot different without you and I wouldn’t want it any other way. As many times as it takes.”

Your face feels hot but as you glance back up, you meet Shiro’s eyes. They’re soft if not a little pained. His lips are parted like they are when he’s not quite sure what to say and this, this is your Shiro.

You need him to be your Shiro.

______________

With Lotor and his generals tracking you relentlessly, Allura has forbidden your nightly flights around the castle claiming it may draw attention and put you and your team at risk. You know she’s right but it doesn’t make you any less irritated at being cooped up. Without flying as a means to clear your mind, you’ve taken to the training deck, pushing the levels beyond what Coran would likely approve of. But it feels good. To struggle. To fight. You’re not aware you have an audience until it makes itself known.

“You’re as scrappy as ever.” Shiro says it jokingly with a reserved smile as if he’s asking permission to intrude. It’s been years since he’s felt the need to.

You turn towards him, breathless, and wipe the sweat from your face and neck with the bottom of your shirt. The quick once over he gives you doesn’t go unnoticed and you suddenly feel shy in front of a man you’ve laid spread eagle before, breathless in a different way.

“What are you doing up?”

He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“So I gathered.”

You stand in awkward silence staring at each other for a few too many beats until Shiro finally looks away. He rubs at the back of his neck and you shake away the thought of what a mess of knots his back must be. It had taken you nearly a full week of kneading to straighten out the first time he came back to you. You hate to think how long it would take this time.

“Want a partner?” His voice low, expression a little sheepish if not hopeful, pulls your thoughts from an expanse of scarred flesh beneath your fingers. “Or have you not gotten tired of easy opponents yet?” he continues, smug smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You can’t help but snort and lick your teeth at the taunt. “Easy, huh? Think you can still pin me, old man?” And it _is_ easy. Just like that you’ve slipped into your old routine. The teasing. The challenge. His eyes flash dangerously with determination even as he scoffs.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, punk.” 

You’re both laughing but you barely have time to respond before Shiro’s running at you, smirk definitely present on his face now. You adjust your stance, just managing to block a punch heading straight for your chest but you know his moves by heart. It’s been a long time since he’s managed to surprise you but you also know Shiro plays the long game. 

You continue to trade blows that don’t land, dancing around each other before lunging back in. You manage to get a kick to his side in before bouncing out of reach. He’s got strength but you’ve always had speed.

You throw a few jabs he parries easily but he refuses to come after you. You’re fully aware that he’s baiting you, waiting for you to get close enough to get you to the floor but you’re feeling careless, high on adrenaline and the thrill of sparring with someone with a pulse capable of laying you out.

It’s your next punch when he finally makes his move. Shiro latches on to your arm, preventing you from jumping back out of reach, before he sweeps your legs out from under you in one swift move. Before you can comprehend what’s happened, he’s got you pinned face down with your arm wrenched behind your back and you know you’re screwed. This is where Shiro really excels. He’s got the stamina and back at the Garrison, it wasn’t unusual for him to defeat him opponents simply by holding them in place and waiting them out.

You hadn’t planned on going that route yourself but here you are. Impending defeat leaves a sour taste in your mouth but you’ve always hated to lose. “I’m disappointed, Shiro. You don’t normally finish this fast,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear ruffling the hair at your neck. “Yield.”

Christ, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be pressed beneath him, breathing hard and straining. Pride compels you to resist, pushing against him but as predicted, you barely budge. If you could only get your arm free…

You could, but you’re going to have to play dirty. 

So be it.

“I said yie-” 

Grinning in satisfaction at the choked noise he makes, you continue to roll your hips back, grinding into him _hard_. Shiro’s hold loosens just enough to jerk your arm free from his grip and start to pull yourself out from under him. When he grabs your hip to keep you down, you twist in response but find yourself on your back with Shiro pressed between your legs. There are worse positions to be in but you’re not in the mood to submit in a fight tonight. 

Making a move to push him off was a poor decision on your part but to be fair, you’re pretty tired. Decision making skills aren’t at their peak. Especially not when Shiro has your arms pinned on either side of your head and it’s _very_ apparent how into it both of you are. Despite this, a memory surfaces from the deep recesses of your mind where everything's the same, including the dark gray eyes that you’re staring into now, but you’re pissed off and not nearly as turned on even if you _do_ end up using it as jerk-off material later.

You’ve always been fast, a little squirrely. But you’d also had exactly zero training before arriving at the Garrison. It wasn’t that you weren’t capable of winning your fights. You’d given more than a few black eyes, bloody noses, and bruised ribs to make sure of that. It’s not until an instructor pairs you with Shiro that you realize you fight like a wild animal. You get in, ensure survival, and get the hell out. Golden boy doesn’t like that formula though and as he does with all his other partners, he wears you down. Before releasing you after you finally give in, he imparts his wisest words upon you that you know by heart and repeat to yourself when you need to find your focus.

You snort at the realization that maybe you didn’t learn as much as you thought you did and you finally stop struggling with a grin on your face.

Shiro smiles back in curious amusement. “What’s so funny?”

“Just remembering the first time you dropped your mantra on me,” you answer with a sigh.

He chuckles even as his eyebrows furrow. “My mantra?”

“Patience yields focus,” you mock playfully, fully expecting him to roll his eyes. Your heart sinks when he only stares back at you, confusion clear on his face. It’s such a simple phrase but it’s something you’ve carried with you for years now. It brings you comfort. And he doesn’t even remember. How could he not remember? It feels like all the air has been sucked from your lungs and Shiro knows he’s said something wrong.

“Keith…” 

You shake your head and offer him a small smile you know doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s nothing. We should, uh, we should probably get some rest.”

Shiro chooses not to pursue it any further to your great relief, nodding as he pushes himself off of you, offering a hand to pull you up off the floor. You brush your backside off out of habit and turn to leave. Ideally, you’d have something reassuring to say. Some form of comfort. You know he would. But this isn’t an ideal situation and you’ve never been one for words. 

“Goodnight, Shiro.”

“Night.” His voice sounds hollow. You don’t turn around.

______________

The sound of your door sliding open startles you out of your thoughts. Only one other person has access to your room aside from the overrides Allura and Coran have. Considering there aren’t any alarms blaring, you can’t see having either of them slipping in unannounced which only leaves one other person. You almost wish you were under attack. That might be preferable. 

Dim lights glow from the floor around the edges of the room after sensing movement and since you’re currently lying on your back having been quietly contemplating the ceiling just a moment ago, you can’t peak at Shiro without letting him know you’re awake. He has to know though. He definitely knows you’re a light sleeper. He did anyway. You’re not certain what he knows now. You turn your attention to keeping those bitter thoughts from twisting your expression too much.

He pads quietly towards your bed and you have to actively force yourself to keep breathing normally. Why are you so afraid? You wait for him to say something, anything, a dip in the bed maybe as he sits but there’s nothing. A magenta light glows through your eyelids and that’s...Shiro’s hand. He’s activated his Galra hand. You crack an eyelid praying you’re not going to see what you know you are and he’s there, standing over you, face blank, devoid of emotion, watching you. Your breath quickens as his hand inches towards you, hovering above your neck. 

He’s going to kill you. You’re going to have to fight Shiro and you’re going to die. 

You can feel the heat radiating off of his hand at your throat but...he’s stopped moving. Something’s wrong. “Shiro.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper. You swallow and try again. “Shiro. Shiro!” His hand begins to tremble and you can see that his jaw is clenched tight. You’re desperate now. “Shiro. Takashi!”

He coughs suddenly, gasping for air. He blinks then and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. He glances at his hand, still lit up bright and bathing your face in pink light as he breathes heavily, beads of sweat on his brow.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Relief floods through you as he lowers his hand in confusion, deactivating it. 

“Keith?” He reaches out with his other hand tentatively, pulling back with a wince when he realizes you probably don’t want him anywhere near you. You take it though and lace your fingers together and squeeze. He looks pained, in shock. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You try to keep your voice steady and calm as you reassure him that he hasn’t hurt you. It isn’t unusual to find him aimlessly roaming the castle corridors as if he’s in a trance some nights since you first rescued him but this is the first time you’ve seen him with his hand lit up as well. 

“I could have killed you.” He sounds broken as his thumb brushes over your knuckles in circles. “Oh my god, I could have _killed_ you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“That’s not the point, Keith. I’m...I’m fucked up. You know it’s the truth. Everyone does. Why do you think Black doesn’t trust me anymore? Why don’t any of you trust me anymore?” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back to take a shuddering breath. “I’m damaged goods, Keith,” he says much quieter.

It’s now in this moment that you realize how much you’ve failed him. He’s never once doubted you. How could you not do the same for him? You sit up to give him space as you pull him down next to you, thankful he goes willingly. He scowls when you take his Galran hand between yours and bring it to your lips. 

“You’re not fucked up. You’re not ruined. You’re strong and brave. You’re selfless. You always do what’s right even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. Shiro...we were scared. We didn’t know what had happened to you.”You’re voice goes soft. “ _You_ don’t know what happened to you. We didn’t handle it well.” You pause. “ _I_ didn’t handle it well.” You finally meet his eyes because he needs to know you mean it. “But you’re still you. You’re Shiro. You’re Takashi. And I love you.”

His eyes widen minutely before your crush your lips against his, savoring the way his fingers part your hair, cradling your head as if you’re something precious. He tastes the same. Your hands hold his face gently, thumbs running across his sharp cheekbones. You’re surprised to feel that they’re wet.

You push his face away, mouths parting softly, to look at him. His brow is knit with emotion. Eyes soft and gray like the sky before a storm as they search your face no doubt looking for some kind of reassurance. When he finally speaks again, his voice sounds gravelly, exhausted.

“I missed you.” His fingers curl deeper as if he’s trying to keep you from disappearing out from under him. “I know I don’t remember things. I don’t even want to think about what I’ve forgotten but I want to remember every second I spend with you.”

He’s not the same man you fell in love with on the roof of a shack in the desert under the stars. How could he be? But he’s still your universe. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, nosing your way into the crook of his neck. “I missed you too,” you murmur, eyes welling. His solid weight grounds you and you stroke his hair as he sprawls across your chest in his usual place. A place you hadn’t realized had felt as empty as it had until it wasn’t anymore. For the first time in weeks, you actually sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing was inspired by [this art by @theprojectava](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/163881172258/feindesliebe-ger-loving-your-enemies-they#notes) and morphed about 7 times along the way as these things do.
> 
> This is the first thing with substance that I've written for sheith and since I was in writer's block hell when it started, I thought trying a different approach would help knock me out of it and it did. Never written in second person and I tried to be more...thoughtful and introspective. Not my typical work and there's so much room for improvement but it was fun. Part II will be written at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Tell me your thoughts and feelings if you so wish and come holler with and/or at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princedeadend) or [tumblr](https://princedeadend.tumblr.com/).


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